An hour and a half later, the Queen reached the Abbey door, having delighted the huge numbers of her subjects by her participation in the splendid procession. The more aristocratic of her subjects, wearing their robes and diamonds, waited inside. There was a strict dress etiquette: all peers wore their crimson velvet edged with miniver and ermine according to their rank: dukes were allowed four rows of ermine, marquesses three and a half rows and mere barons only two rows.10 The Abbey glittered and glistened, particularly the peeresses, who twinkled with diamonds. The feminist radical Harriet Martineau said that she ‘had never before seen the full effect of diamonds. As the light travelled each peeress shone like a rainbow. . . Prince Esterhazy crossing a bar of sunshine was the most prodigious rainbow of all. He was covered with diamonds and pearls, and as he dangled his hat it cast a dancing radiance all round.’11 Diamonds even sparkled from the heels of Esterhazy’s shoes.
The Queen, dressed for the journey in robes of delicate gold tissue and a crimson mantle, changed into her coronation vestments and proceeded up the Abbey. There had been no rehearsal for this auspicious event – the Queen merely visiting the day before to try out the thrones (they were too low and had to be changed) – and the coronation was a bit ramshackle by today’s well-rehearsed standards. The different actors in the ceremony had neglected to practise their roles and were very imperfect in their parts, consequently there was ‘a continual difficulty and embarrassment, and the Queen never knew what she was to do next’.12 The officiating clergy were unsure of coronation procedure, the Archbishop forced a ceremonial ring on to the wrong finger of the Queen and an aged lord fell down the steps to the throne.
The disorganised nature of the coronation remained private: newspapers merely reporting that the event united ‘all classes, ranks, ages, and conditions'.13 Moreover, it only cost £70,000, well under budget, as compared to George IV’s, which had cost £243,000. Across the country, people celebrated; it was to be the most widely shared public event until the jubilees. There were dinners for the poor, pony races, grinning matches and a ball in Bury Edmunds; processions in Oldham; special firework displays in Canterbury, Edinburgh and Torquay; a 2'6", 214lb Victoria pudding cooked in Brighton; boat races, flower shows and archery in Belfast;14 and a shilling given to all the poor in Arundel. London was illuminated by oil lamps and fireworks and there was ‘scarcely a house in any of the principal streets but what was brilliantly lighted up, crowns, stars, and the letters V.R. meeting the eye in every direction’.15 The young Queen, touched by ‘the enthusiasm, affection and loyalty’ of her people, felt overjoyed at being queen of such a nation and insisted that she would always remember the day as the proudest of her life.16
The young Queen would need more than pride and self-possession. Political by definition of her role and powers, she was at the apex of the constitutional structure. The Royal Prerogative, that is, the special rights and powers of the Crown, meant that Victoria automatically became commander in chief of the armed forces; enjoyed the right to appoint ministers and diplomats, to bestow knighthoods and other honours, to choose bishops and archbishops, and to appoint the colonial governors. During her reign, she would appoint ten prime ministers, 15 foreign secretaries, 11 lord chancellors, six army commanders, and five archbishops of Canterbury. As Walter Bagehot later noted in his classic book The English Constitution (1867), the Queen also had the power to declare war, to make peace, negotiate treaties, disband the army, dismiss all sailors, sell off all warships, make every parish a university and pardon all offenders. It seemed a frightening prospect for both Britain and her friends and allies abroad: an untested, naïve and inexperienced teenager at the head of the most powerful country in the world. ‘The reign of Queen Victoria’, reported one local newspaper ‘will form one of the brightest or one of the saddest pages in English history.’17
The Queen enjoyed numerous prerogatives but she could not exercise them freely. Victoria, unlike many of the crowned heads of her European family, was not an absolute monarch since her authority was limited by her constitutional status. Laws such as the Bill of Rights 168918 and the Act of Settlement 170119 had restricted the special rights and powers of the sovereign. Naturally, in her coronation oath Queen Victoria promised to govern according to the statutes in parliament, and the laws and customs of the same. For example, although monarchs had the theoretical right to refuse to sign a parliamentary bill no monarch since Queen Anne had actually exercised the royal veto.
More importantly, the 1832 Great Reform Act20 marked a decisive shift in monarchical power, a power which would be further eroded throughout the nineteenth century. Until the Act, monarchs were generally able to choose their own prime minister, who in turn could be sure to win an election; he had, after all, the confidence of the reigning monarch who had patronage to bestow. Prior to the 1832 Act, and indeed until 1918, the electorate consisted only of men: women were not allowed to vote. Moreover, the electorate was small, corruptible and easily swayed, allowing a sovereign to influence the outcome of an election and manage the House of Commons through a party of ‘the King’s friends’. These friends consisted of small factions and groups easily manipulated by the sovereign with the gifts of patronage. However, the Great Reform Act, which basically enfranchised the male middle class, began to establish the sovereignty of the people. After 1832, the Crown’s power to appoint a prime minister without consulting parliament was undermined for unless the minister enjoyed support in the House of Commons he could not survive. Indeed, Victoria’s reign symbolised the change from ‘the concept of government as the King’s government to government as party government’.21 By the time Victoria was crowned, ministers depended on their parliamentary majorities, rather than the monarch, for their preservation. Ministers appointed by the sovereign could no longer be sure of electoral support and the Crown could no longer manoeuvre the various factions and groups within parliament. Gradually, throughout Victoria’s reign, the Crown lost influence as the elected House of Commons became more and more identified with the nation. Certainly, the Queen, crowned five years after the Great Reform Act, was to become incrementally less powerful than her predecessors.
In addition, as Britain became more democratic, the roles of head of state and head of government became separated. Victoria’s task in this new democratic era was to be politically impartial, leaving the elected parliament and its parties to govern. In theory, the Crown’s constitutional prerogative of appointing ministers remained, in practice Queen Victoria could only appoint those who enjoyed support in the House of Commons. As the monarch’s role as head of government diminished, it began to be replaced by a new role as head of state. Here the sovereign was cast in a ceremonial and symbolic role rather than an executive one. The country and the government expected Queen Victoria to reign not rule. Unfortunately, the Queen never really adapted to this new situation: she regularly tried to take an executive role in government affairs and all too often declined to carry out her ceremonial duties.22 At the beginning of Victoria’s reign, the party system was still rudimentary and there was often leeway for the monarch to get her way; however, as parties became better organised, this latitude diminished .
The extent of the new Queen’s popularity is difficult to ascertain but it is safe to say that Victoria’s accession to the throne was widely welcomed. Parliament was pleased and awarded the Queen an annuity of £385,000. Victoria also enjoyed revenues from the Duchy of Lancaster, which amounted to over £27,000 a year. After the expenses of her household, there was a surplus of £95,000 a year. This enabled the Queen to pay off her father’s debts, and then save; after her years of relative impoverishment she was determined to be financially secure.
Victoria, swept up by the sheer business of the first few days of her reign, commented excitedly in her journal with all the artlessness of her youth that she ‘really have immensely to do [sic] . . . but I like it very much.’23 She had ‘so many communications from the Ministers, and from me to them, and I get so many paper
s to sign every day, that I always have a very great deal to do . . . I delight in this work’.24 In the first few days of her reign she made decisions on a court martial and conferred on the Grand Cross of the Bath to the Earl of Durham, knighting him with the Sword of State which is ‘so enormously heavy that Lord Melbourne was obliged to hold it for me, and I only inclined it. I then put the ribbon over his shoulder.’25 In addition, the young Queen was introduced to her foreign ambassadors and ministers; received homage from the Bishop of Norwich; received various foreign ambassadors from France and Russia – Count Orloff of Russia presented her with the Order of St Catherine set in diamonds; chose over twenty ladies of the bedchamber from the aristocratic list; and attended levees and audiences. On one occasion, she had her ‘hand kissed nearly 3,000 times’.26 It was mostly ceremonial, rather than governmental, work.
Almost immediately, Victoria punished her mother and John Conroy. On the first night of her reign, like a petulant teenager, Queen Victoria took revenge on her mother’s controlling behaviour by moving her mother’s bed from her room and sleeping alone. Within a month of ascending the throne, Queen Victoria moved out of Kensington Palace to Buckingham Palace. Her mother, still out of favour, was given a suite of rooms separate from her daughter. Conroy was banned from the court. In 1839, after considerable negotiation, Victoria got rid of John Conroy by giving him a baronetcy and a pension of £3,000 a year. Victoria enjoyed her schadenfreude moment, Baroness Lehzen was triumphant and Stockmar took up residence in the Palace.
The Germanic influence was potent. Victoria adored and perhaps feared her governess, friend and advisor Baroness Lehzen. Victoria had rebelled against the authority of her mother but she was still a teenager and still relied on adults to guide her. Her journals are unwaveringly flattering about her new protector, possibly because Lehzen still read them. ‘My beloved and faithful Lehzen’ Victoria would write, ‘I cannot sufficiently praise; no words can express what she has done, what she has endured for me!! I can never never recompense her sufficiently for all, all what she has borne and done for me these 13 years!’27 The Queen called Lehzen ‘Mother’, ‘for that she ever has been and is and friend, my angelic dearest beloved Lehzen, whom I love so very dearly. . . and without whom I could not exist.’28 Others took a dimmer view of Lehzen, viewing her as a manipulative intriguer; Albert was to call her ‘the old hag’.
Uncle Leopold, now King of Belgium, enjoyed giving his niece advice. Frequent letters arrived, encouraging, educating and sometimes prescribing how to rule. Leopold wanted Victoria to depend on his former secretary, Baron Stockmar from Coburg, for guidance. He advised his niece to keep her mind cool and easy and not to be alarmed at the prospect of being queen as ‘aid will not be wanting, and the great thing is that you should have some honest people about you who have your welfare really at heart . Stockmar will be in this respect all we can wish.’29 Victoria was encouraged to be ‘courageous, firm and honest, as you have been till now. . . you have at your command Stockmar, whose judgment, heart and character offer all the guarantees we can wish for. . . . My object is that you should be no one’s tool’30 – except of course his own. Leopold recommended that Victoria take her time in making decisions and that ‘whenever a question is of some importance, it should not be decided on the day when it is submitted to you. . . when a Minister brings his box and the papers, get him to explain them. . . . Then you will keep the papers, either to think yourself upon it or to consult somebody.’31 Leopold knew how impetuous his young niece could be but Victoria took her uncles’s advice. In her early reign, she depended on Stockmar’s guidance and rarely gave an immediate response to ministerial questions. Her uncle counselled his niece to study history, international law, political economy, classic studies, physical science. Once more, Stockmar ‘would have the immense advantage, for so young a Queen, to be a living dictionary of all matters scientific and political’.32 In addition, Leopold taught his niece some Machiavellian tactics. He told Victoria that foreign spies always read confidential documents and if she wanted to bring a particular policy to the attention of a foreign government, then she should deliberately write about it in a despatch. In future years, Queen Victoria would often engage in secretive, and some would say devious, negotiations. Moreover, Victoria’s early dependence on dominant clever men laid the foundations for her future relationships with politicians, and even with Albert.
Victoria was blessed with a work ethic, making it ‘the greatest pleasure to do my duty for my country and my people, and no fatigue, however great, will be burdensome to me if it is for the welfare of the nation’.33 The day’s routine was unwavering. Each morning, taking her Uncle Leopold’s advice, Victoria devoted herself to business matters. It was a schedule she would keep all her life, a direct contrast to George IV, whose heavy drinking and indulgent lifestyle caused him to take to his bed and stay there for days on end.
Victoria and Melbourne: 1837–1841
Many hoped that the new young Queen might break royal tradition and remain above party politics. This wish was not, and never would be, granted. At her accession, Victoria was a fervent Whig, surrounded by people from a small aristocratic Whiggish circle. Hers was a Whig family: her mother, her late father, Baroness Lehzen and Prince Leopold were all Whig supporters. The teenage Queen Victoria’s first prime minister, Viscount Melbourne, was a member of the ruling Whig faction in parliament. The Whigs were not a party in the modern conventional sense, they were rather a group of MPs who stood for constitutional monarchy and the reduction of crown patronage, who had a commitment to reform and who tended to favour the merchant, banking and industrialist class rather than the landed aristocracy. The hope that Victoria might be a dispassionate, impartial – and above all – constitutional monarch was dashed almost immediately she became queen, and was undermined further by her increasing reliance on Melbourne. The Queen was an impressionable 18 year old whereas Melbourne was 58 years old, well versed in politics, sophisticated, clever and urbane, thus making the intellectual and emotional relationship somewhat unbalanced. Melbourne, as much a father figure as a prime minister, became Victoria’s mentor, friend and confidante, and this personal rapport propelled Victoria towards Whig politics even more. The two met socially, not just politically: Melbourne went out riding with the Queen, usually joined her for lunch or dinner, and regularly stayed at Windsor. They frequently spent six hours or more together and met almost every day, more than was considered appropriate for even a sociable prime minister, and led to the young Queen being dubbed ‘Mrs Melbourne’. Lord Greville, a senior civil servant who was often at court, thought the Queen relied much too much on Melbourne, who treated her with ‘unbounded consideration and respect, consults her tastes and her wishes, and he puts her at her ease by his frank and natural manners, while he amuses her by the quaint, queer, epigrammatic turn of his mind, and his varied knowledge upon all subjects. . . . Her reliance upon Melbourne’s advice extends at present to subjects quite beside his constitutional functions.’34
Victoria shared her intimate secrets with her prime minister, telling him of how shy she felt, of how she never knew what to say, of how she often felt awkward, and of her ‘great nervousness’ which she feared she would never get over when speaking in public.35 She discussed with Melbourne whether couples should get to know each other before marriage, commenting that ‘if people knew each other better there never would be any marriages at all’.36 The two spoke frankly, even discussing Melbourne’s bowel movements and their respective bedtime habits. For much of the time, Victoria preferred to gossip with Melbourne rather than discuss affairs of state. The two enjoyed chatting about inconsequential matters. They discussed how someone had a peculiar way of eating a potato, of another of having a fidgety temper, of how one lord’s elopement had killed his sister, of how a foreigner thought the English danced too slowly, of the peevishness of some of the peers, and of who hated whom. The two dissected the characters of acquaintances, spoke of how one lady was a ‘great goose’,
of someone else’s beauty, of the ‘unquietness’ of another, of people’s jealousy of a beautiful lady, of which men had mistresses. Lady Cecil Copley, Victoria pronounced, ‘was one of those clever, strange, wild people who would do anything. “Like her” Lord Melbourne said, looking at Miss Dillon; I said I thought she would never do anything of that kind, for that she was too good for that; he said, “I hope not!”.’37 Victoria declared to Melbourne that Lady Stanhope was ‘undisguisedly jealous of everybody’ and had no more sense than a donkey and told him that the Bishop of Chester was called Crumpet ‘because his face is said to be in the shape of a crumpet, like dough’.38 She confided that she was utterly astonished at the talkativeness of Lord Palmerston and of the Duke of Cambridge who ‘talks quite immensely and in such a loud excited manner’.39 The fun that the young sovereign enjoyed with Melbourne was evident and there is no suggestion here of a serious, moralistic, disapproving monarch who was never amused. More significantly, Melbourne acted as a friend and confidante more than a prime minister, taking on a role which would have serious repercussions later on.
In addition, Melbourne helped Victoria cope with the negative and volatile relationship she had with her mother. It was not actually dysfunctional but more akin to the predictable cycle of a mother–daughter relationship. In her late adolescence, Victoria was determined to build her own identity, and she resented what she considered her mother’s controlling and domineering behaviour. When her mother offered suggestions, Victoria thought her intrusive and interfering. She complained to Melbourne about the excessive tyranny of her mother and about her ‘former dreadful and inconceivable torments’ when she was at Ramsgate.40 Melbourne was told about ‘all I underwent there; their (Ma and JC) attempts (when I was still very ill) to make me promise beforehand (about letting John Conroy be Private Secretary) . . . Spoke at great length about all this and many more sad scenes and events.’41 Melbourne diplomatically listened, advised the Queen on what to say, and drafted her responses. Just after she became queen, Victoria wrote in her journal that Melbourne was a most truly honest, straightforward and noble-minded man who she was ‘ most fortunate to have at the head of the Government; a man in whom I can safely place confidence.’42 This perception of Melbourne remained with her throughout his premiership and quite undermined any idea that Victoria might be an impartial monarch. Over the next few years, Melbourne flattered her, controlled her intemperate nature, curbed her intolerance and her tendency to narrow-mindedness – and often gave her unsound advice.
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